Sunday
by queen g
Summary: The morning after a party, Sirius awakes to find someone in his bed. Sunday by Bloc Party.


The curtains were drawn apart for some reason, causing morning light to flood the dormitory. Sirius rolled over. He opened his eyes slowly— the right first, then the left—and in doing so found himself staring into a mess of blonde hair. Who the hair belonged to, Sirius didn't know.

Last night. Saturday night. Sirius remembered it being a special Saturday night as the Marauders suspended their usual Hogsmede antics in favour of the Gryffindor Tower. They had thrown a party, why was this? Sirius wadded through the memory loss in his throbbing head for an answer— of course, of course! James had turned seventeen! How could he have forgotten, his best friend, James Potter had come of age last night and they had decided to throw a little gathering in the Tower. Butterbeer and Firewhiskey flowed thick and fast; Muggle and Wizard music mingled together and created a marvellous sound; Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs and even Slytherins danced until their feet ached, laughed until their stomaches hurt, kissed until their lips became raw. It had been a good night. But which girl did the hair belong to?  
Sirius was, as usual, presuming it was a girl. She had to be at least a fifth year, any younger and Sirius felt sick to his stomach. And how sure was he that they had slept together? Maybe he had been too tired to perform the act...no, Sirius laughed, he was never too tired. Still, there was something unsettling about having a blonde in his bed (assuming, again, that it was indeed _his_ bed) and not remembering how she had got there.  
What was the right etiquette in this sort of situation?, Sirius wondered. Should he tap on her shoulder lightly to wake her up, have an awkward conversation, and leave? Should he fall back asleep, let her be the first to come round and deal with the situation? Or should he get out of bed, gather up his clothes, and run to wherever Moony, Wormtail and Prongs would be this early on a Sunday morning?  
Having made up his mind, he searched for his clothes and left. He had toyed with the idea of writing a note, but the thought of what to write would have taken a wizarding lifetime. Yes, leaving without making a sound would be the best option.

As he searched the dormitory for his clothes, he realised it was _definitely _not his own, and _definitely _inhabited by females (the latter causing Sirius to feel slightly relieved). His jeans were flung on the floor, along with his t-shirt, boxers, and right shoe—the left was on the opposite side of the room. He looked on the desk nearest the bed for his dragon fang necklace but couldn't find it. Feeling a bit annoyed for having misplaced his favourite possession—not counting his Nimbus 1500—he left, opened the door which was interestingly shaped just like a barrel top, and jogged through the common room. Yellow wall hangings with the edges trimmed black adorned the walls, the squishy arm chairs were a cheerful sunshine colour and there was a portrait of a badger above the fireplace. He was in the Hufflepuff Cellars.

_The painting chuckled at the boy and girl, taking another merry swig from his goblet, "Password?"  
"Ad hominem!" The girl announced brightly, throwing her hand in the air as she did so. The couple stumbled through the still life and into the deserted common room. "You are sexy Sirius, you are one seriously sexy Sirius, or should that be SIRIUSly sexy Sirius! Hahahahahaha, ahahahahaha, hahahahaha, do you get it? Because I said Sirius and it sounds like SERIOUS which is the start of the word SERIOUSLY except I made it into SIRIUSLY because you are so sexy!"  
"Carina. Stop talking and just kiss me."_

-

She was a Hufflepuff. A blonde Hufflepuff. As Sirius' jog became a sprint, he thought of only one blonde Hufflepuff.

_Heavy night, it was a heavy night  
Feels like we've just, come back from the dead  
Heavy night, it was a heavy night  
I cannot remember what I said to anyone  
I love you in the morning  
When you're still hung over  
I love you in the morning  
When you're still strung out_

_When I'm with you, I am calm  
A pearl in your oyster  
Head on my chest a silent smile  
A private kind of happiness  
You see giant proclamations  
Are all very well  
But our love is louder than words  
I love you in the morning_

-

A/N: written very quickly aften listening to 'a weekend in the city' far too much. possibly the start of a series of bloc party songfics (i have a 'so here we are' one in the pipeline) but i will need to expand the plots a lot more as they all just seem to be about a drunken carina needing sirius, ahahah! anyway, i hope you enjoy this, i forgot how much i loved writing sirius/carina situation, deary me :).  
oh and the song is sunday; bloc party, such a good song, the drums perfectly describe that 'morning after' headache.


End file.
